“I'm not explaining this right. What happened was this. There were these beautiful feelings and loose little pleasures inside me. And this woman was something like an assembly line for my soul. I run these little pieces of myself through her and I come out complete. Now do you follow me?”

“I hate... I hate when you die. It destroys me. I know i have no right to be so upset, because I'm not the one losing my life, but it breaks me apart inside. I'm not very good with words, and i dont know how to explain to you how i feel. I get lonely when you aren't with me. I miss you. And every time you die, a little piece of me dies with you.”

“I guess I'm still holding on to something that I know will probably never happen, because somewhere deep down inside me, I have this little piece of hope that someday, it will.”

“I feel like my life is so scattered right now. Like it's all the small pieces of paper and someone's turned on the fan. But, talking to you makes me feel like the fan's been turned off for a little bit. Like things could actually make sense. You completely unscatter me, and I appreciate that so much.”

“i feel like my life is so scattered right now. like it’s all these small pieces of paper and someone’s turned on the fan. but talking to you makes me feel like the fan’s been turned off for a little bit. like things could actually make sense. you completely unscatter me, and i appreciate that so much.”

“I let him run on, this papier-maché Mephistopheles, and it seemed to me that if I tried I could poke my forefinger through him, and would find nothing inside but a little loose dirt, maybe.”